


i wonder who you're dreaming of tonight

by helenamelia



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Falling In Love, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Lesbian Character, Love Confessions, Lust, M/M, Romance, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10024280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenamelia/pseuds/helenamelia
Summary: "I could never understand exactly why it was that in Archie Andrews I had seen more infatuating complexity than the natural world could hold."When a confused and emotionally unfathomable Jughead Jones is thrust back into the life of his childhood best friend Archie Andrews, he can no longer ignore the feelings that fill him with both an unparalleled fear and undeniable hope. But as long-suppressed feelings begin to get out of control, wistful longing threatens to spill over into irrepressible passion.Betty Cooper doesn't think about Veronica Lodge. Nope. Not at all. And if she ever does, it's definitely not because she's noticed the stupidly irresistible way Veronica's eyebrows arch in scrutiny, or how infuriatingly attractive it is when she looks up at Betty through her eyelashes as she sips on the straw of a milkshake. Nope. Veronica never even crosses her mind.The angsty-est, gayest, most poetic & flowery fic that exists probably.Jughead is confused, sad and woundingly sarcastic. Archie is defensive, cool and resolutely powerful. Secret longing, heartache, angst, denial, and jealousy ensue.Predominantly Jughead/Archie with added Betty/Veronica for your consideration.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Thanks for taking the time to read my work.  
> I will try to upload a chapter every week or two if the first chapter gets a good reaction!  
> Comments, suggestions, criticisms (and anything in between) are so valuable to me so please leave a comment if you are enjoying it!  
> Helen x

chapter one: jughead.

I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair. The night air is cool on my skin; dark, calm, peaceful. I feel my biceps tightening as I reach my arms up over my head, the suggestion of muscles in my waist and stomach flexing and defining themselves more strongly as I move. My hair, cropped and floppy, feels cold and tousled and wet beneath my fingers. I take a deep breath in through my nose. When I breathe out, it feels like I am releasing the stress that has been building up inside of me for weeks, so that the dusky air around me is full of swirling mist mingling in between the fireflies. I can’t remember the last time I felt as liberated as I do now. And the best part is that I am alone. This moment is all mine. No one can take this from me. They have taken everything else, but they cannot paint out the stars.

As I open my eyes, I look down at the glassy sheet of dark water that reaches up to my bare waist. It is still, calm, but I know that it is wild too, and that comforts me. And when humans have destroyed themselves through hatred and fear I know that this lake will remain. 

I know that nothing lasts, I know that better than anyone. I had to learn that the hard way. But something about standing in Backpoint Lake, sheltered by the reassuring resoluteness of the mountains, drinking in the silver stars above me, feels like the only permanent thing in the world.

Watching my hands gently swirl the water either side of my hips, I allow my mind to wander back to the first time I came up here. I was seven years old, full of the intoxicating exhilaration of innocent youth. I remember riding my bike up the winding mountain path that led to Backpoint Lake, my stout little legs pedalling as hard as they could, my knuckles gripping the handlebars in determination, my brow furrowed. It was a race. And when I glanced over my shoulder he was there. Archie Andrews. 

Archie was always there when I looked at the space beside me. No matter what fucked-up stuff was going on with my family, I knew one thing for sure; whenever I felt alone, Archie would always be right there next to me, reminding me that we were a team, that we were unbreakable, that we were permanent. We used to ride our bikes every day around the forests and mountains of Riverdale those long, hazy summers before everything fell apart, letting our imaginations take over as we saw ourselves as superheroes and comic-book characters, fighting injustice and leaping from tree to tree and rescuing beautiful girls. Remembering this now, I let out a wry laugh into the silence. Ironic doesn’t even cover it. 

That day at Backpoint Lake was just like any other of those cloudless, carefree days, except this one was better because, for the first time ever, I was riding ahead of Archie. Archie could usually beat me at anything he wanted, but this time, with the wind reddening my cheeks and the sun warming my back, I was the one out in front. It felt so good that I let out a triumphant yell, throwing my head back and listening as the sound reverberated across the mountains. Grinning, I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Archie laughing and making some comment about how it was just a fluke, but he was nowhere to be seen. My smile faltered and my legs slowed up as I realised that in my euphoria I had forgotten to take the right turn we needed to complete our usual loop back home. Starting to panic now, I called out Archie’s name. No answer. I called again, the high pitch of my voice giving away my increasing fear. Where was he? 

“Hey Juggy, come check this out!”

And suddenly there was his voice, and everything was alright again. The colour rushed back into my cheeks in a flood of relief as I pedalled towards the sound of his voice, like a beacon in the forest. I followed it until I reached a clearing in the trees, and all at once the forest slipped away into the clear, blue expanse of an enormous lake surrounded on all sides by mountain peaks. My jaw dropped. It was the most breathtakingly gorgeous place I had ever seen.

“Cool, isn’t it?” said Archie excitedly, his brown eyes lighting up underneath his mop of red hair.  
“Awesome,” I breathed, dismounting my bike so I stood next to Archie. He never once took his gaze off the lake, his wide eyes flickering about as if he was trying to take in all the beauty of the world at once. It was certainly beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Yet somehow, as we stood there, our childish innocence palpable in the summer air, I looked not to the view, but to Archie. It came inexorably, even instinctively to me. And for years when I looked back at that moment I could never understand exactly why it was that in Archie Andrews I had seen more infatuating complexity than the natural world could hold.

The view is the same now as it was then, even though so much has changed. It is almost cruel that after all this time the water is the same shade of labyrinthine blue; the mountains carve the same jagged silhouette into the sky; the fireflies linger in the same unpredictable sequence like dancing stars winking in the navy. 

I don’t really know what I hoped to achieve by coming back here. I suppose I still see this spot as a symbol; of hope, of innocence, of me and Archie. All of which are concepts that no longer exist. And it hurts that when I turn around I don’t see him by my side. 

Frustrated, I slash the water with my hands, disrupting the lake’s glassy surface. Why am I still thinking about Archie Andrews? I know he wouldn’t waste a second of his life thinking about me. If he wanted me around, if I meant anything to him at all, he would have stayed. He wouldn’t ignore me in the corridors at school as if I am nothing to him. I wouldn’t be here at two in the fucking morning, still clinging to the place that holds no significance to him anymore, with nothing but the chip on my shoulder and the beat-up rucksack that holds everything I own in the world.

I exhale heavily, closing my eyes for a second and feeling my body slump and sink into the ground beneath me. I had thought about Archie for too long. In an attempt to distract myself, I try to imagine someone standing beside me, so that maybe I won’t feel so alone. Archie’s face swims into focus in my imagination, but I brush him aside vehemently. No, not Archie, not Archie, don’t think about Archie. Think about… Betty. As I try determinedly to focus my thoughts on Betty, the vague figure in my mind seems to morph into a slim body standing next to me; blonde, modest, apologetic, and resolutely feminine. I nod obstinately to myself. She’s a girl alright. 

I try to imagine what Betty would say to me if she were here. A wry smile flickers on my lips as I think that it would probably be something about how we should get back before anyone notices we are gone. She’s never really been the type for adventure. I’ve always needed Archie for that.

And there I am, back at Archie again like some never-ending goddamn wheel of fortune. With supreme effort, I force my thoughts back to Betty, trying to focus on the softness of her fair skin, the portion of pale-blue morning sky that is trapped in her eyes, the gentle curves of her body. She is the kind of perfect, innocent girl that boys have always had a secret crush on. The kind of girl I should, by all means, have a secret crush on. After all, what’s not to like about Betty? Sure, she may not have the Kardashian body some guys lust after, but she has this captivating purity that is infatuating. Or so I’ve been told. 

I was never enraptured by Betty the way some guys were. She had always been perfectly within my reach; after all, she was Archie’s other best friend - which gave me a closeness with her that the other boys at school could only dream of. I had often tried to look at her the way the other guys did; with a hint of that lustful wonder I see in Betty’s own eyes whenever she is with Archie. I sometimes try to force myself into thinking of her in that way; so much so that at times I can almost convince even myself that we are more than just friends. That she is enthralling and bewitching and attractive; that she makes me want to run my hands all over her body and sin wildly; that being around her makes me feel dizzy and exhilarated and invincible. But the truth is when she looks into my eyes I feel nothing but a mild content. A liking. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more. She’s special to me, and I trust her. But the truth is, no matter how hard I try, I can’t deny the passivity, the emptiness, the distinct lack of quickening in my heart when I am with her.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ I think to myself now, frustrated. Most guys would probably jizz on the spot if they had even the faintest chance with Betty. And here I am, overlooking her. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t love Betty Cooper. There’s no reason at all.

And yet…

And yet my mind keeps returning to Archie.

***

Slowly, I begin to wade back to the edge of the lake, the fireflies still flickering around me hauntingly like so many glowing ghosts in the moonlight. I’ll sleep here for tonight. I can’t bear to leave Backpoint Lake, not yet. It is full of the past, and I want to lose myself in that. 

And tomorrow at school I will see Betty and I will try to notice the way her chest rises and falls as she speaks, and she will look down at her skirt and dare to wonder if it could be true that I like her. And I will feel like I don’t belong here and she will feel like this is where she is meant to be. And I will still be trapped and confused and alone. 

And when I pass Archie in the corridors he will look straight through me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Thanks for taking the time to read my work. 
> 
> I will try to upload a chapter every week or two if the first chapter gets a good reaction!  
> Comments, suggestions, criticisms (and anything in between) are so valuable to me so please please leave a comment if you are enjoying it!
> 
> I have just completely fallen in love with the Riverdale characters and was inspired to write something very raw and emotional and pretty and heartbreaking and gay. I understand not everyone will like the idea of Jughead and Archie together, not least because Jughead is canonically an asexual character in the original Archie comics. I realise I will be criticised for making Jughead have sexual attractions in my own Riverdale world, but I really just wanted to explore the idea of Jughead being bisexual or gay (specifically towards Archie because personally I see a real chemistry and a strong emotional connection between these two onscreen).
> 
> This fic also explores the relationship between Betty and Veronica - and this is something I am really invested in - but I have to say that this is a predominantly Jughead/Archie fic. This is mostly down to the simple fact that Jughead's character fascinates me endlessly, compared to the slightly underdeveloped characters of Betty and Veronica onscreen, therefore they inspire me less.
> 
> I plan to use a split narrative between Jughead, Archie, Betty and Veronica. This is so I can give a full picture of the emotions and thoughts of each of my main characters without having to see this through the impersonal veil of an omniscient narrator and to prevent each character's experiences being skewed or covered by a single character's own thoughts, seeing as my focus for this fic is to portray the complex emotions involved in love. I hope this narrative style doesn't become confusing and doesn't detract from the overall smoothness of the piece.
> 
> I like to see this fic as a series of moments, and in my head this often fits with music. Here is a list of songs to listen to when reading:  
> Homegrown - Haux  
> Don't Wanna Be Your Girl - Wet  
> You For Me - Eliza Shaddad  
> Glasgow - Catfish and the Bottlemen  
> Willow Tree - Twin Wild  
> Michigan - Arms Akimbo  
> On Your Side - The Veronicas  
> Not Old Enough - Richard Orofino  
> Sister - Haux  
> Where's My Love - SYML  
> Halfway to Nowhere - Chelou  
> Anywhere - Fuvk  
> Sense of Home - Harrison Storm  
> Be Yourself - Harrison Storm
> 
> Thanks again. This really does mean a lot to me.  
> Helen x


End file.
